


isn't this exactly where you like me

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, Sexual Content, Wet Dream, prolly T but im rating it M to be safe, trans alvie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 21:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15469968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Alvie overhears House talking in his sleep. It's not very easy to ignore.





	isn't this exactly where you like me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neonsignsforsale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonsignsforsale/gifts).



> for the prompt "You said my name in your sleep." i made house the one having the dream Purely because alvie wouldve said daddy, not house. don't @ me
> 
> enjoy!

Alvie’s been staying at House’s for a few days now. It’s a nice small place — all too small, really. He sleeps on the couch and wakes up all too early. When their first weekend together rolls around, Alvie notices House sleeps in during the weekends. It’s cute — a stupid thing to find cute, really. It’s  _ House _ , and he finds things about  _ him  _ cute. He’s the same man who beat him up at the psych ward to try and get kicked out, for fuck’s sake.

He still feels something deep inside his chest stir every time he’s near him; like he’s sixteen and got his first crush on a guy who accepted him again. House waving his cane around dismissively and saying that he  _ doesn’t give a shit about what’s in his pants _ had been a relief. He wonders, in silence, if that means House would be attracted to him hypothetically. The man is straight, as far as he knows (although how close he is to Wilson…  _ raises questions _ , to say the least). And he feels things for the man, but he wouldn’t sleep with him if he’d still call himself straight afterward.

So when he wakes up all too early — six a.m., the clock in the wall provides — he doesn’t hesitate to get up from the couch. He’s still wearing the clothes from the day before; a hoodie he stole from an ex that hangs loosely around his small frame, sweatpants and a t-shirt beneath. His binder is in the washing room; he can’t put it in the washing machine, but his executive dysfunction won’t let him get to cleaning it himself.

Alvie leans in close to House’s closed bedroom door, leaning against the wall. He isn’t hungry, not really, and he just wants to wait for the man to wake up. He doesn’t expect for anything to happen at all.

But then he hears a noise. It’s a grunt, and it’s obviously coming from House’s mouth. He freezes up a little before pressing his ear to the door. Curiosity is eating him alive; does House talk in his sleep? That’s another cute thing from the same asshole who beat him up,  _ great _ .

“Alvie,” he groans, and it borders on a moan. Something deep inside Alvie stirs, and he resists the urge to push his hand beneath his boxers. House is seemingly dreaming about him; and if his sounds are anything to go by, it’s  _ sexual _ . He bites down on his lip hard and keeps listening in.

House grunts, “Fuck, Alvie —” and a soft groan comes from House’s room. Alvie digs his nails into his palms and tries to ignore the thick feeling in his stomach down to his waist. He gets away from House’s bedroom door and curls up into the blanket in the couch again.

He tries to fall asleep and simply ends up with his hand beneath his pants.

A few hours later, he hears House stir awake from his bedroom. The walls aren’t very thick; it’s not like he needs thick walls, living alone until very recently. Alvie gets up from the couch and stretches a little, trying to ignore the nerves pooling on his belly. House dreamt about him, apparently sexually.

House opens the door to his room, his cane in one hand as he walks towards the kitchen. He's wearing different sweatpants from the ones he went to sleep with yesterday, Alvie is pretty sure of that. The conviction of his that House had a  _ wet dream _ about him only grows. 

House makes himself some coffee, and Alvie's stomach growls. He gets up, gets himself some cereal and tries to meet House's gaze. The older man's cheeks are tinted pink. 

He doesn't know how to beat around the bush, so he states, “You said my name in your sleep.”

House's grip on his coffee cup loosens and for a split second Alvie is afraid he's gonna drop it. He grips tight on it again after a second or two. 

House doesn't reply and takes another sip of his coffee. Clearly, he doesn't want to reply. How he's avoiding Alvie's questioning gaze and how his cheeks are flushed red doesn't help his case. 

“You were moaning.”

House scowls a little and puts his coffee cup down. “Did you miss your night meds? Have you been hallucinating, Alvie?”

Alvie elbows House in the side, and House's cane drops to the floor with a loud noise. House doesn't even blink as he bends down and picks it back up. 

“You know I wasn't hallucinating a few hours ago, House,” he says. His lips turn into a mischievous smile; he can't help but think that House  _ wants  _ him. “Just admit you had a wet dream about me and move on.”

House raises his index finger. “I prefer the term sex dream. Doesn't make me sound like a horny teenager.”

“A-ha!” Alvie exclaims victoriously, kicking his leg into the air before jumping on his feet. “So you admit you did! Fuck, this is amazing!” House raises a brow and looks at him with interest. “As soon as you're properly caffeinated I'm dragging you back to your bedroom!”

“You should take your meds before that,” House says, and his tone is as flat as most of the time. It baffles Alvie, even if only a little. Of course House is this nonchalant, even when he’s talking about having a sex dream about his quite younger friend. “Don't wanna cause you an episode just because you were that eager to have me rail you.”

Alvie laughs and jumps on his feet again. He serves himself some water and scours down on one of the counters for his medication. He finds it and takes the three pills, putting them in his mouth before swallowing them with water. 

“Aaaall done!” he says, taking a bow and stopping himself from doing an impromptu verse about finally getting railed by Dr. Gregory House. He’s thought about it way too much. “So what were you saying about railing me?”

House lets out a dry chuckle and finishes his coffee. “I think I should kiss you first.” 

Alvie’s stomach flips. “Can't argue with that,” he says softly. He bites his lip before asking, “You aren’t straight though, right?”

“Not at all.” House says, and then continues, “Quite bi.”

Alvie lets a sigh of relief. “‘Kay. Just thought — y’know.”

House shushes him and Alvie ends up looking up at him hopefully and expectantly. Holy shit, House wants to fuck him and he isn’t a straight guy doing Olympian jumps about his own sexuality to think he’s still straight after fucking a trans man.

House cups his cheek and draws him in for a kiss. It's more gentle than he expected it to be, really— House pulls him closer, a hand on his back and the other on his hip. He kisses him slow, like waiting for Alvie to take the reigns. He doesn't — House, at some point, starts being greedier. Alvie's mouth opens against his and their lips and tongues meet in a haze. 

At some moment Alvie finds himself against the wall next to House's bedroom door. The very same door he heard him groan his name from. “House,” he breathes. 

“Alvie,” he says right back, and it's almost airy. It's like he's pulling off the knots in Alvie’sstomach one by one. “You're so beautiful, you know that?”

His face twists a little. “Handsome,” he corrects.

House cups his cheek, brushes his index and middle finger along his scraggly scruff. It's still patchy even after two years of being on testosterone. “You're so handsome, you know that?” House corrects himself, voice all too soft for Dr. Gregory House. 

“Of course I know that,” Alvie says. 

House chuckles and kisses him again. 

When House finally has the decency to stop making him wait and brings him to his bed, Alvie’s feelings spread — almost like the butterflies in his stomach moved to his whole body. His body stutters with every touch, every way too careful touch.

“I didn’t expect this,” Alvie tells him after their umpteenth kiss.

House chuckles and tangles his hand on Alvie’s hair. It’s short but long enough for him to have a decent grip on it. He pulls, and a soft noise comes out of Alvie’s throat. House’s smug smile widens. 

“I didn’t expect this either, but I’m not complaining.”

Alvie laughs and connects his lips with the older man’s again. “I’m doing the opposite of complaining right now.”

“I know,” he says.  _ Of course _ he knows, with how Alvie becomes putty into his hands.

Alvie chuckles again and lets House pull him apart at the seams.


End file.
